


mirjahaal

by MageOfCole



Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [15]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Hurt Jango Fett, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Gods, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Mentioned Satine Kryze, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Possession, Visions, Whumptober 2020, magical healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: (peace of mind)The glass sand stretches endlessly before him, and Obi-Wan continues to stumble on wards, something deep inside his chest urging him to keep moving. Something beyond the dunes calls him home.(No.15 - Into The Unknown)
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Cole Does Whumptober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949908
Comments: 137
Kudos: 444





	mirjahaal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Star Wars Drabbles, Part II](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589085) by [mneiai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai). 



The glass sand stretches endlessly before him, and Obi-Wan continues to stumble on ward, _something_ deep inside his chest urging him to keep moving.

The mission to Mandalore had been a disaster from the beginning. He had felt at home as soon as he had seen the planet approaching in the spaceport, something in his soul singing as a tension he never knew he had lessened, but as soon as his feet had touched the ground, the fifteen year old had very nearly collapsed in agony. The planet was _screaming_ , wailing in pain around him; sounds that no one else could hear. Anger and fear not his own had nearly overwhelmed him, a deep-rooted anguish had settled deep in his bones and hadn’t left him since.

He had continued on with the mission as expected of him. He had pushed beyond those emotions to focus on the Living Force as Master Qui-Gon had expected of him, and he’d tried to release his steadily boiling grief, and annoyance with the Duchess into the Force. It hasn’t completely worked, and the longer he traveled Mandalore with Satine Kryze, the more enraged he grew.

Manda’yaim was suffering, and Satine looked to destroy everything that remained. She wanted to ruin everything about Manda’s children, the good and the bad. She wanted to steal the very soul of Ka’ra and burn it until nothing remained so that she could build something poisoned in its place. She wasn’t the voice of healing and peace that she liked to claim she was - everything she wanted to do would bring needless destruction and death, all so she could build something ‘new’ in her own image.

Master Qui-Gon had bought into all of Satine’s propaganda, and wanted to help her kill the _Beskaryc Kar'ta_ of Manda and Ka’ras’ children. It had led to tension and anger in the months they traveled together, and Obi-Wan suspects these arguments were the reason why his Master had chosen Obi-Wan to cover the retreat with the Duchess when Death Watch had tracked them down. Obi-Wan had managed to defeat the group of _ramikade_ sent to kill the young Duchess, but Master Qui-Gon and Satine were long gone, and Obi-Wan couldn’t reach them over their comms.

They had left him - his _Master_ had left him - and Kyr’tsad were still coming.

Injured, Obi-Wan had had to move. He had forced himself to run, despite the agony radiating from the injury in his gut, and led his pursuers into the desert. Obi-Wan had let his feet carry him onward into the white sands, towards something that called out to the deepest parts of his soul, and he had kept running even after he had lost the Kyr’tsad _ramikade_ after him.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, but something calls to him beyond the dunes. Every step he takes, he sees double - glass deserts are replaced by a lush jungle with a thick green canopy and singing birds. He’s surrounded by flowers of all colours, and he can hear a river that doesn’t exist running alongside the invisible path he follows, and an overwhelming sensation of peace comes over him. He passes a dune that a part of him tells his mind a crystal lake should be - he could once see the blue and pink jewels through the clear water. He used to sit there with his _riduur_ , and they’d share the day’s offerings between them as they spoke about their siblings and children and acolytes. He used to run his hands through his _riduur_ ’s long curls there, confident that they’d find each other in every life, and they’d make love in the crystal caves behind the waterfall, praying to their Mother and Father that the seeds would take and their family would grow once more. He feels warm hands that could easily be used to destroy but are gentle when they touch him, he sees molten gold eyes and a crooked smile, and he hears loving words murmured in his ear. They’re opposites in every way, but they were made for each other.

Obi-Wan doesn’t understand these visions he’s seeing, but they’re lovely enough that he wishes he could. He wants to live those visions he sees, but the jungle is gone, and the crystals destroyed. Everything that had once been here had been reduced to nothing during the _haar Dral’Han_. Half the planet had been boiled by the bombings. The population had been drowned and encased in molten beskar when the god-blessed ore had been melted and forced to the surface by the scorching heat.

Whatever had been here is long gone, buried under his feet. There had been a village here, once, one filled with a loving population who would follow the very trail Obi-Wan follows now, to pray at the Temple. Who’s Temple? He feels like he should know, but those memories have been encased in a thick wall of beskar and every time he tries to push past it agony radiates from the wound in his stomach, and the bleeding starts anew, staining the white sands he walks across red.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been traveling the desert, but he’s exhausted and aching, his vision growing gray at the edges. Still he walks though; he pushes past the pain to follow the voices in his head, calling him forwards.

And then he sees it. There’s a gleaming Temple in the sands - it had blinked into existence in the few moments Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention. It’s familiar, and it feels like _home_. It shouldn’t exist, he knows this, it had fallen during _haar Dral’Haan_ \- Obi-Wan had memories of scared worshipers hiding in the walls, of the defenses woven into the structure by his Mother and Father failing as fire and molten metal swallows the land that was supposed to be under his protection. Weakened by the magicks of the Sith and the Jedi, he hadn't been able to save them as they were swallowed.

He steps through the wide entrance, entranced by the great Temple and his feet carrying him deeper. He walks past thousands of carvings telling the stories of the gods and their children, and the great battles of Manda’yaim. He remembers each battle, remembers walking across the planet afterwards, healing the wounds upon its surface and its people. He remembers laying in his _riduur_ ’s massive bed in his Temple outside of Keldabe as his _ka’runi_ rests after each conflict, tracing each scar the battles and wars left on his skin. Collecting the dead souls to deliver to their Mother and Father was a tiring job, but his _ka’runi_ did it with such care. He cradled each dead soul with the same gentleness Obi-Wan would a newborn, and he’d punish those who committed heinous acts. Obi-Wan had loved him as fiercely as he and loved him, as much as he loved every child he carried, no matter the life.

He doesn’t know where these memories come from, but they feel _right_. They’re his, just as much as his _riduur_ was, and just as much as their children were.

He lets his feet lead him, thoughts fuzzy, to the great altar set in the center of his Temple. He barely feels the blood dripping from his body, splattering glittering gold across the spotless floor as he makes his way towards it. He feels right as he sits down on the warm beskar and wood, his blood singing in his veins and welcoming him home. Around him, the crystals lining the domed ceiling light up like millions of blue stars, catching on the colourful glass of the windows and casting puzzles of colour across the beautiful chamber as it hums with _life_.

He’s _home_.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan lays down on the altar, feeling _life_ spread across what had once been the desert around his Temple. He feels it as Manda’yaim begins to _heal_. Water is bubbling up past the sands, plant life is beginning to take once more, and he can sense his _jai'galaare_ stirring. He lays down, feeling his memories come back to him like a gentle stream that soothes the jagged part of his soul that he didn’t know existed, calling for its other half.

He’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, but he’s also something _more_. He’s Mirja’Naak as well. He is the second oldest child of Manda and Ka’ra. He is Life, he is Peace, and he is the time of healing that follows every great battle.

(Across the stars, weighed down by chains and agony and loss, Jango Fett opens his eyes, his soul whole once more, and Tal’Kyrbash smiles as he reaches back to his love. He is of Death. He is of Bloody Battles. He is his Father's guide and executioner. He is the lover of Life, and his other half calls him home.)


End file.
